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Three Lessons Learned from a Broken Neck

2014 ended with a bang for me; or more specifically, a break; or more specifically still, six breaks in my neck.

On December 28th, on the first swim of the first day of a much-anticipated vacation in Puerto Vallarta, I got into a fight with a rogue, “Holy crap, that’s big!” wave, and the wave won, picking all 200 pounds of me up like a feather, bending me backwards and slamming me headfirst into the ocean floor. The entire left side of my body from the waist up went immediately numb as I struggled to get my head above water while one thought crept into it: “This is bad.” After a minute of lopsided treading water, I managed to stumble to shore and up to our beach chairs, where my partner, Brent, and a friend had received their first round of drinks.

After sitting for five minutes, I begrudgingly came to the conclusion that I needed to go to the hospital. Brent—respecting both his marital obligations and the fact that it takes a lot to get me off a beach (especially one that serves drinks)—came with me. After X-rays and various scans, it was revealed that I had fractures in five of the seven vertebrae in my neck, most notably the bottom two (C6 and C7), which had clean breaks from one side to the other but somehow by-passed my spinal chord.

When the doctors in Puerto Vallarta started talking surgery to stabilize my spine, our travel insurance company decided it was time to get me back to Vancouver and informed us that they were sending a jet. Admittedly, even in the face of tragedy, flying home on a private plane elicited its own degree of excitement. But visions of Cristal and caviar quickly evaporated when we pulled up to the airport and the paramedics wedged me, Brent and our luggage into a Lear jet that was roughly the equivalent of a Volkswagon Beetle with wings.

Back home on Canadian soil, I spent the next five days at Vancouver General Hospital (VGH) in one of the best spinal wards in the country. Every doctor or nurse who saw me would look at my chart, look at me, look back at my chart, look back and me and say, “You are very lucky,” which I was, and I knew it. On January 3rd, I walked out of VGH, my head held high by a lovely neck brace that will be my constant companion and fashion accessory for the next several weeks.

Without a doubt, this whole experience has been the most traumatic health event in my 48 years on Earth. For someone who had never so much as broken a bone, I guess my body decided it was going to go big with its inaugural trauma. But as traumatic and disruptive as the whole experience has been, I have learned three valuable lessons from it, which I want to share in the hope that they might enlighten others.

On Stillness

I am a kinetic person who has been more or less moving non-stop for the past 25 years. So the thought of having to be still, completely still for an indefinite period of time both terrified and challenged me. But when I realized I had no choice in the matter, I was able to quickly and surprisingly embrace the stillness forced upon me. While I had visitors, my iPhone, books and an abundance of trashy magazines to distract me, I spent a lot of time in the hospital just being still: thinking, not thinking, seeing, hearing, feeling and absorbing what was happening around me versus worrying about the future or dwelling on the past.

In embracing stillness versus resisting it, I was able to not only regroup but also restore some clarity and focus that was missing from my life: around what is really important and what is not, around the healthy forces in my life versus unhealthy ones, around spending less time fretting and more time just being. I have tried to carry this stillness with me since leaving the hospital and intentionally infuse it into my life by starting each day with 10 minutes of meditation; by reading and writing first thing each morning versus compulsively checking email; by turning my phone off when I need to focus on something; or by taking a short walk or playing the piano to clear my head. I have been amazed at how much serenity and clarity a little stillness has brought to my life, both personally and professionally, making me more focused, creative and productive.

On Dependence

I’m a control freak and have a hard time relying on others, especially regarding anything that affects me or my surroundings. So it was tough to, in an instant, go from being the guy in charge to being the guy who couldn’t even turn over in bed without three people doing it for him. In the hospital, I needed to rely on nurses for everything; and while that was embarrassing and a bit emasculating at first, I soon surrendered myself to their expertise, their care and their unflinching willingness to provide it. Whether it was getting me water, bringing me happy pills, emptying my urine bottle or coaching me through my first bedpan experience (“Bill, it’s been five days; it’s time.”), the nurses at VGH approached every task with a warm smile, humour and words of encouragement, quickly earning my trust and, with that, helping me let go and let others takeover. Through their remarkable care and the gracious offers of help and acts of support from countless friends and family, I have not only come to have faith that people really want to help, but understanding that I need to be more willing to let them.

On Gratitude

In the age-old “glass half full or half empty” debate, I lean towards the latter. So I was shocked at how quickly after the accident my psyche went to a place of gratitude versus despair. I greeted each hour and each day with the profound realization that I was truly lucky to be alive and able-bodied. And while I knew this accident would mean a lot of things would be missing from my life for a while (e.g. exercise, travel, the Whistler ski season, being able to shave my own face…actually that’s an added bonus), I was amazed at how quickly a profound appreciation for all that I still had would drown out those thoughts. This whole ordeal taught me to approach each day from a place of thankfulness, not disappointment; from a perspective of abundance versus want; from a recognition of all that is going well in my life versus the few things that might not be. And if those old demons start to creep back into my head (as they do), I will stop, sit down and make a list of what I am grateful for, quickly righting my outlook on things.

This view extends out across a wide array of areas, but none more clearly than on all the amazing people I have in my life and how much I cherish and value them: friends, family, colleagues, clients and, most notably, my partner of 18 years. In the days and weeks following my accident, the outpouring of love and support flowing in from all corners of the globe was both humbling and overwhelming, filling my heart and strengthening my soul. And while I am eternally grateful for being able to walk, I am more so for having a wealth of loving and caring arms to walk into. That is a richness that will know no end.

As you head further into 2015 and fully re-immerse yourself in the hubbub of work life, I encourage you all to bring some stillness into your life, to bravely lean on others when you need to and to be thankful for all that you have versus dwelling on what you lack. Happy New Year everyone!

SIDE NOTE: I also encourage you to never travel without travel insurance. I buy a blanket policy every year for a whopping $125. I estimate that, with the hospital care in Puerto Vallarta and the air ambulance home, that insurance saved us around $75,000.

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21 Comments

Wow Bill. Quite a story. Quite a post. A reminder that ‘everything’ really can change in an instant. So glad you’re home and mending. Though I won’t be looking for you in Whistler, hope to see you soon.

Bill – Although this an uber traumatic experience, I really admire your positivity and absolute refusual to let this bring you down! Wishing you all the best in your recovery and look forward to seeing you again this year.

Oh and don’t blame you on the bed pan thing … 5 days must be a record!

Billy, I started to get that strange sensation that accompanies receiving tragic news when my sister began telling me of your accident. I am so glad that you will recover. What a great perspective and outlook you have. We all, or at least I certainly do, get caught up in the daily grind that we forget what is truly important. Thank you for sharing.

Wow I can so relate. I am glad things were not worse for you! I ride & show horses professionally and on May 5, 2012 I had a very similar experience. I’m from NY but was in Raleigh, NC schooling horses for a national collegiate competition (I’m also the head coach of a very competitive equestrian team). I was literally piledriven on my head by a random horse I had been asked to ride. It came out of nowhere. I broke C1 into 3 pieces, also broke C5, C6 and C7 in a few pieces. I had to deal with Worker’s Comp, not travel insurance – super fun….not! I had surgery in Raleigh (am now fused from C4-T1) and spent 4 months in the lovely Aspen collar. I too was air ambulanced back to Syracuse in a Leer Jet. The only fun part of that is that it was previously owned by Vince Neil (Motley Crüe). If those walls could talk. Still doing PT & lost a bit of ROM with the fusion but back riding & doing my thing. Good luck!!! Would love to hear from you! Hope all goes smoothly from here on out! Amy [email protected]

Beautifully articulated, Bakes. So often in life something terrible happens and there’s no second chance. Not to diminish what you’ve been through and will go through, but you were certainly graced. It’s heartening that you’re filled with gratitude. We are too.

Hi Bill: You are amazing! We were on the edge of our seats here waiting for news from Bruce after your accident and it was all I could think about until you were airlifted back to Vancouver. Your attitude is inspiring and being as fit as you are likely saved your life. We hope to see you and Brent soon! Hugs, Lynn.

Bill,
I just heard the news from a colleague and so glad to hear that you are doing so much better. As usual even while injured your writings provide great value, except these ones are not about being successful at a brand and corporate level but to be more successful at a human one. Your thoughts on ”Stillness” struck a real chord and wanted to thank you .
Now to a speedy recovery where we can have lunch and share funny stories.

wow…I want to say you really can find diamonds when rocks are thrown your way. I hope your transition back to full health goes well and you can maintain your mental fortitude to follow through on your personal discoveries. Mother Nature really can be a bitch. I have always appreciated your openess and honesty, and am counting on you for more laughs in the future. You tell a great story…it’s just strange sometimes how we come up with them

I’m a friend of a friend of yours who forwarded me your post because I broke my back on December 26th, also celebrating 2014 with a ‘cracking’ end. I loved reading this not only because it was articulate and beautifully written, but also because my experience has been remarkably similar. From my reluctant reliance on the nurses who cared for me for two weeks in Oliver hospital (I also held out as long as I could on any bedpan action) and learning to accept and ask for help from my wonderful mom, to letting the world just ‘be’ around me and finding an inner peace that I haven’t been aware of in a long time, all of it has taught me so much. I’m back at work now, supposedly part-time, from my horizontal position in bed, and daily I feel my stress levels creeping up. This was a timely reminder to put the computer down and breathe. Thank you and I hope your recovery continues to go well.
Shelley

Hi there Shelley. Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment on the blog post. I’m so glad it resonated with you, for obvious and understandable reasons. Yesterday marked the four week anniversary of the accident, and like you, I can feel myself starting to slip back into old habits. Fortunately, I have a partner who keeps me humble and focused in this regard and, “Does someone need to reread his blog post?” has become a familiar refrain of his. I wish you a speedy recovery as well.

You are a very lucky man. It’s inspiring to hear of someone taking a bad situation and turning it in a positive experience. Too often we dwell on the negative or become depressed, falling in to the poor me, why did this happen attitude. It takes a strong person to look at the silver lining and be grateful for the fact that you are alive and that things, although not great, could have been much worse. Thank you for reminding us, myself included, that life is really what you make of it. Good luck on your continued recovery!

Bill – thanks so much for sharing your calamity and the learnings with us all. it is so true that we don’t take the ‘time’ to just be silent and focus. I was just saying this again to a friend of mine today.

i am grateful that you have started to meditate – this is a great step forward to all the 3 different learnings and aha moments.

most of all it is amazing in our lives that it takes a massive tragic moment like this to realize the most important things in life. you area great spirit bill and i am so grateful to have you in my life with all your knowledge wisdom and greatness.

thanks again for writing all this marvellous blog – in fact when are you writing a book?